


Empty Sacrifice

by sarai377



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Bad end, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16343936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: When Robin returns, after the endgame, things are not as he expected. (In which Grima won, despite Robin's sacrifice)mChrobin, Bad End.for Chrobinweek Day 3 - Corrupted





	Empty Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, a bonus piece for Chrobinweek! 
> 
> HEAVILY inspired by this post: https://tecchiiiiii.tumblr.com/post/179200079077/chrobin-week-day-2-day-3-twins-corrupted (I recommend you check this out first, as the story might not make sense otherwise.) 
> 
> This piece has been lightly edited. I had zero time yesterday but still managed to write the whole thing so... I may come back later and edit/expand.

Robin collapses to the cold hard stone, drained of everything, even tears. His knees throb, but it is like nothing compared to the ache behind his ribcage, suffocating him. His best friend, his lover, his _king_ doesn't acknowledge him. Even when he calls his name, shouts it to echo through the cobwebs in the lofty ceilings of the hall - even when he pleads, there is no response.

Chrom’s piercing red eyes go through Robin, burning wrong from beneath stern eyebrows. This is wrong. It's all wrong - he expected to return to a kingdom ascendant, not a palace of rubble.

What did he sacrifice for? What was his sacrifice for, if not to protect Chrom and his descendants?

What was it _for_?

He leans forward and rests his forehead on Chrom's knee. The sharp ridges where the poleyn meets the greave dig into his skin, sharp and stinging. He presses into it, feeling his own delicate flesh give against the edge. A thin trail of wet runs into his eyebrow, cold.

His eyes are blurry and unclear, and he doesn't want them to ever clear, if this is the world he has to see with them. His face aches, his nose clogged, and he is adrift.

There's movement, the swish of fabric around him.

Then there's a hand on his head, gentle but heavy.

Chrom.

Despite how moments ago he swore no more tears could come, another round rises. He curls in a bit more, and somehow that simple touch just makes it all the worse.

He glances up at Chrom, but the fallen prince is looking away, his expression one of numb disinterest.

Grima - his other self - laughs, and when he removes his hand from Chrom's arm, Chrom's hand falls off to clang against the armrest.

Robin finds his way to his feet, finds his hands balled into fists. Something tight and jagged is caught just under his larynx. "How dare you?" he shouts, voice rasping, echoing back from the empty walls.

"Don't get mad at me," Grima says, grinning a too-wide smile, all sharp like a shark. "You _left_."

Robin doesn't know what to say to that. He turns to Chrom again, begging for recognition, for the slightest spark of the man he loved. _Look at me_ , he thinks, but Chrom doesn't even appear to be breathing. He's still, ashen, like a corpse.

Grima comes around the throne and settles an arm around Robin's shoulders. He shrugs it off, and then pushes Grima back.

Grima trips on one of the steps, but rights himself, eyes glittering with malice. Even with Grima on the step below, it still feels like he's taller than Robin, more imposing. How can he look so like Robin and yet feel so wrong? It's like looking into a mirror and seeing the darkest version of oneself, the version that you try so hard to keep from becoming. The version you don't like to admit is there.

Something clamps on Robin's arm.

Belatedly, he realizes he heard the sound of armor stirring, metal hushing and shifting against the throne.

Chrom has taken hold of Robin's arm, and pulls him away from Grima.

"Chrom--" Robin says, but the prince releases him roughly, like he's dropping trash.

Then the prince turns those uncanny red eyes to Grima.

Grima approaches the prince. "Good boy," he says, haughty eyes dancing to Robin, as if sharing a secret. Then he pats Chrom's cheek.

Robin doesn't remember making the conscious decision. He doesn't recall gathering his courage and strength, striding three paces across the dirty marble.

He feels the impact shocking up his arms as he shoves both hands into Grima's chest. He presses and puts all his force into it, into this one angry motion. Satisfaction blossoms like dark blood splattered across his mind.

Grima falls, eyes reflecting the sunlight as he hits and then rolls. Robin doesn't get to see the surprise turn into anger. He doesn't even see Chrom move, but he feels the gauntlet close over his throat.

Then _he's_ falling. There's an uneven stone pressing into his spine, and a knee resting against his hip. Metal fingers dig into his throat. Red eyes blaze.

_Grima?_  he wants to ask. _You choose Grima over me?_  But he can't get enough breath to speak. His words will likely crash like waves over the rocks, wash away into the sea, anyway. He grabs at the unyielding arm and struggles to suck in air.

The lack, the sharp burn as he tries to draw breath, shoots adrenaline through his body. The crush of that hand, pinching where the metal links join, makes him tremble, makes his boots scrabble on the cold stone.

Chrom's face is terrible. There's no reaction as he finally looks at Robin - this truly is Grima's creature, his dog, for if there were anything left of the man Robin loves, he would stop this.

He's going to crush the life from Robin's body.

Robin gets more and more desperate, his body struggling to hold on. Chrom is relentless, bearing down on him. Black wavers at the corners of his vision, and his mouth opens and closes. His hand reaches up to Chrom's face, but the prince just tilts away.  _Not like this-- please--_

"Enough," comes the command.

That pressure is removed. Robin gasps in a breath, searing white in his vision. He coughs, and rolls onto his side, nearly retching with it, clinging to the marble. The air is incredibly sweet and bitter at the same time, like two bites from vastly different dishes.

Someone grabs his hair, pulling his head up. A sunbeam falls into his eyes, confusing the receding black sparkles. Robin squints up at Grima, who has a handful of his hair and a foul expression on his face. Robin gathers himself, and spits at Grima, but the gob falls woefully short.

"I may have a use for you yet," Grima says, and lets go. Robin's head rings against the stone.

Beyond Grima, Chrom stands turned away, and all Robin can see from there is the cool line of his cheek and the curl of his ear. His crown has been knocked askew, but he doesn't correct it.

"Come, my prince," Grima says, and walks down the moth-eaten carpet.

Chrom continues without a single backward glance, cape flaring out behind him as he turns.

Robin lies there for a long time, letting the sunlight sear his retinas, until it shifts and shadows creep in. This was not the homecoming he had expected.

This isn't the home he left.

But it's what he has.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I started talking with Terra about her artwork and the story developed in my mind, so I had to let it loose. 
> 
> Generally I post things larger than 1,000 words on AO3 and put smaller ficlets exclusively on Tumblr... with this one especially I was torn between the two outlets. Do you think it was okay to put it on AO3? Or would you rather have it on Tumblr? Let me know if you care one way or another :)


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